“Why then, I wonder?”
“Suicide is an act against nature, same as murder,” Mr. Smith surprised us by saying. “Death is a force of nature after all. Perhaps both terrible acts disrupt her designated course, force her in a different direction?”
“Or, in my case, force her into action,” I said. “She didn’t want to let me go for some reason.”
“Like I said.” Angela tucked a knuckle under my chin, raised my face, and looked at me like a jewel appraiser might. “You’re valuable, Jasmine Campbell. Death needs you. If she didn’t have your companionship and the knowledge that at least one human being understands her plight, what would she have?”
It was almost like she knew I needed to be validated, like she sensed how helpless I felt, just sitting there. Waiting for Vanessa to find the third immortal couple. Waiting for the Salamander to be caught. Waiting for Death to make up her mind about my uncle. I was so grateful for her words; I almost cried in earnest. I swallowed the knot in my throat and gave a tiny nod. It was all I could manage but I think she understood.
Angela dropped her hand, her kind smile lingering. Then her focus shifted to something behind me. The three of us stood.
Charlie came toward us, talking to someone on his cell phone. He looked about as well as I felt. Anthony had offered to drive us both to the precinct for a shower and a nap, but neither of us had been willing to go.
“Thanks, Vanessa. I’ll be over in a few minutes,” my brother said before he hung up. He managed a less-cranky-than-usual frown for the Smiths. “Hi, again.”
“Hello, Charles,” Angela said, suddenly antsy. She tapped her fingers against her coffee cup. Shifted from foot to foot. “I’m so sorry about your uncle. Believe me; we didn’t come here to ambush your sister in her vulnerable state. We merely—”
“I believe you,” he muttered.
Angela beamed.
I didn’t know why she cared so much about what he thought but I was glad he was trying to be nice to her. She’d been so kind to me, after all.
“It’s actually a really good thing you guys are here.” He glanced at Mr. Smith too when he said this. “I have to—I need to—” He growled softly, shoving his phone into his pocket. He addressed Angela’s shoes when he finally said, “I need your help.”
“Of course, anything,” Angela said. Belatedly, she looked to her husband for approval, which he gave with a slow nod.
“Vanessa thinks she’s found your friends, or at least where they’re pretending to live.”
We all perked up at this.
“She’s setting up a surveillance team. Her plan is to follow them around for a few days and wait for them to mess up.” Charlie shook his head, finally mustering the courage to look up at the Smiths. “That’s not good enough for me. It’s not good enough for her either, honestly, but she said it was the only thing she could do…other than send someone in with a wire and try to get Mr. and Mrs. Velazquez to confess.”
“They would never confess,” Mr. Smith said dismissively. “They trust no one.”
“But they might be more willing to open their doors to someone they know,” Angela said. “Someone who could perhaps plant a listening device in their home.”
Charlie didn’t say anything, just held her gaze.
The Smiths shared concerned looks before angling themselves away slightly and having another one of their telepathic conversations. This one was particularly short.
“We’ve been passive long enough,” Angela said, pulling her shoulders back. “These deaths must end. If we can help the Campbells, we should.”
“We have survived by remaining as far away from our brethren as possible,” her husband hissed. “Now you want to go into their home? Spy on them? Be the reason they go to prison? Meeting with Izz and Segil in a precinct was one thing. Meeting Fadele and Nij where they’re strongest and giving them a reason to seek vengeance against us is madness. I won’t allow it.”
“In all our years, we’ve given them no reason to harm us,” his wife insisted. “If we come to them, appear weak and in need of their protection—”
“This is not our problem.” Mr. Smith flung a hand behind him. “This investigation involves Izz and Segil. Let them risk their lives to end it.”
“They won’t. You know this. The responsibility to protect their employees”—Angela gestured to me and Charlie—“to protect those who want to bring Fadele and Nij to justice, falls on us.” Blinking back tears, she let her hand drop. “This feud began with me.”
Mr. Smith shook his head. “No.”
“With the doubts I was foolish enough to write down in my silly journal,” she continued, her voice shaking.
“You can’t blame yourself. Our relationships with them were already on unsteady ground by the time—”
“It must end with me.” Angela pressed a hand against her chest, looking up at her husband through wet lashes. “It must.”
Mr. Smith looked like he wanted to argue further. Instead, he exhaled and shook his head. “This won’t fix the rift between us. We’ll still be cursed, able only to die at each other’s hands.”
“Behind bars, Fadele and Nij won’t be able to do as much damage. Also, doing this could begin to erase the bitterness between us and Izz and Segil. We’ll still be cursed, yes, but we’ll be in a better state than we were before.” Angela took his hand. “I won’t go without you. As in all things, we must be united.”
Her husband nodded, seemingly exhausted by the discussion. After staring into Angela’s eyes for a moment longer, he leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. When Mr. Smith looked back at Charlie, he said, “We’ll help you.”
Angela gave him a proud, tearful smile.
Charlie finally released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you. Vanessa and her team will be watching the whole time. They’ll step in if it looks like you
